Dear Diary
by Katamabob
Summary: Ginny Weasley's first year is made much more bearable by a new friend she can carry in her pocket. But Tom Riddle may not be as good a friend to her as she first thought... Please R&R!
1. Enigma

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_.

_Prologue:_

**Enigma**

I returned from Diagon Alley, that fateful day, ashamed and upset. I avoided my mother's gaze as I hurried to my room, scuttling past my brothers and… _him_.

I had been humiliated, in public, in front of the object of my affections. The Malfoy boy, an enemy I knew, had used me as a taunt to torment the boy I liked. How he must despise me now. To be taunted about being his _girlfriend_, something I knew I would never be (yet persisted to hope I may someday achieve). He was kind about it though. He'd been embarrassed, but when he looked at me, his eyes had been full of worry about the comment upsetting me.

I was thinking about that gaze, his eyes shining like emeralds in my rose-tinted memory (and my own wishful thinking persisted in replacing the pity with love), whilst I flicked through my books.

Almost all my "new" schoolbooks were in fact second-hand. Only the ones that Harry (how quickly my mind falls on him once more!) had given me were in perfect condition. My Transfiguration text was particularly shabby, the spine cracking and the pages stained. It smelled of dust and decay. This was probably the reason that Malfoy senior had chosen it to examine closer and disdain. I remembered the sneer on his face, and his implication that my father did me a disservice in forcing me to own such a book. It was true that I had often regretted my family's lack of finances, and in my darker moments of envy of others I resented my father for it. But I knew, even as I thought it when I was younger, that such thoughts were unfair. My father loved us and did what he could and what he loved. We had enough. To hear another say it, and honestly believe it, made my blood boil with hate at his materialistic and condescending attitude. How dare he accuse my father of being a bad parent?

I decided, mainly based on a desire to prove that man wrong, that this book would do very well. It was still perfectly legible, and that was all I needed to learn.

I flicked through the book, making sure that none of the stains obscured the text when I noticed another, much slimmer, volume secreted in the middle of it. Had that been there when we bought it? Or was it another of my school books, that got wedged in when my new (once again, "new") cauldron was being heaved around?

Curious, I pulled it out and inspected it. I certainly had never seen it before. It was slim and black, with few adornments on the cover. It had no title.

I flipped open the cover, trying to find a clue as to what it was about. Instead I found a name and a date. It was a diary. I smiled. Mum must have bought it for me. It was second-hand (as was indicated by the name) but a quick flick through it assured me that the rest of it was blank. The paper inside was untouched and unstained, except perhaps by age. I checked the date, and was shocked to discover that the diary was fifty years old. It was in excellent condition, despite its yellowing pages.

I looked at the name again. Tom Marvolo Riddle. A curious name, certainly. Tom was a very common name, and Riddle was nothing remarkable, but Marvolo sounded much older and more exciting.

Why had this person, this Tom Riddle, not written in his diary, after bothering to purchase it? It was a very odd thing to do, I felt, after bothering to spend the money. But then, I considered ruefully, not everyone had to be as careful with their money as my family.

It was a mystery to me, nonetheless. A riddle wrapped in an enigma, I thought to myself, amused.

"Ginny!" called someone – Ron – impatiently from outside my room. "Dinner is ready! We called you twice, already."

"Sorry!" I called, irritated. I quickly shoved my new diary into a drawer and rushed down to dinner.

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**A/N:** Taster chapter. Please tell me what you think! If I get enough positive feedback (or feedback, period! I'd greatly appreciate any criticism that's in any way constructive!) I'll continue (because it was fun ^_^) with a hopefully longer chapter. It's in your hands people!


	2. Riddle

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter does not belong to me. Ginny would never stand for that ;)

**Riddle**

The next two weeks in the Weasley home were quite busy, and I forgot about the diary in my desk drawer. Most of my time was spent in garden, watching the boys play Quidditch with apples instead of balls. I longed to join them, but my brothers refused. And, to be honest, with Harry around I'd probably just end up falling off my broom anyway.

I was still knocking things over whenever he entered the room. I spent a lot of time with Mum, helping her in the kitchen (Mum was quite the traditionalist, and I her only daughter). I didn't mind too much, as long as I got to do what the boys did too. I was quite good at the cooking; very careful and well able – until Harry would come in. I'd promptly drop whatever I was holding, or turn around too quickly, knocking over everything. I'd once managed to land my elbow in the butter dish while he was watching! I'd never been more humiliated in my life.

I was feeling rather uncomfortable in my own house, through his presence. It wasn't _his_ fault though, it was mine. And I had no idea why I was being like this. I liked him, a lot. But why did I have to make a fool out of myself?

I tried going out and flying (while the boys were gone. They wouldn't like me using their brooms) to relax. It helped some, but it wasn't what I needed. I needed someone to _talk_ to. Mum was busy, as always. I couldn't talk to Dad (obviously) or any of my brothers (even _more_ obviously).

I was lying in bed one night, thinking about Harry and me. Would he ever like me? Would I ever be good enough? I wished I was prettier, smarter, braver, funnier.

_Not that he'd ever know if I _was, I thought angrily to myself. _When all I do is wind up with my elbow in butter every couple of minutes._

I realised that my eyes were beginning to fill with tears, and I sighed in frustration. Mum had warned me that as I grew up I'd get more emotional, but this was ridiculous. If the boys saw this they'd think me such a wuss.

I was always tough for my age, especially for a little girl. This was partly because of the fact that if I ever did cry or show any inclination toward anything pink, my brothers would say I was being such a _girl_.

I sat up quickly and switched on my light. I yanked open the drawer in my bedside table to search for tissues, feeling ridiculous and girly.

I found a small packet of tissues and grabbed them. I hurriedly wiped my eyes and took out a spare tissue to put beside my bed. I was replacing the packet when I saw something else shoved into the side of the little drawer.

It was the diary. My new diary. Old diary. It had belonged to someone else, a long time ago. What was name on the inside of it again? Something to do with an enigma. Riddle. It was Tom Riddle, wasn't it? I took it out and opened it to be sure. Written there, in neat, perfect handwriting was the name _Tom Marvolo Riddle_.

I suddenly smiled. Maybe writing down my problems would help. Isn't that what diaries were for, after all?

I rummaged through my trunk (where I had carelessly thrown all my school things) for one of my new quills and a bottle of ink. I went back to my bed and sat down, propping pillows behind me. I rested the diary on my knees and opened my inkbottle. Dipping my quill in the black liquid, I began.

_Dear Diary,_ I wrote hesitantly, _today was a worse day than usual. It started with me dropping mum's vase, and ended with me slipping on a wet floor that __I__ had spilled water on._

The words shone wetly on the page as I considered what to write next. After a moment, I lowered my quill again to continue. But, as I touched the quill to the paper, my previous words began to fade, be absorbed into the page.

I started in astonishment. What had just happened? I flicked over the page I'd been writing on, to see if the words had sunk into the next page. That page was blank too.

I let a drop of ink fall on the white sheet, and watched as that, too, disappeared.

Was this a joke? A trick diary from the twins, maybe? A diary that I can't write in, _very_ useful.

I threw the diary down, still open, beside me on the bed in disgust. So much for that. Why was everything I owned worthless?

I angrily glanced back down at the useless diary – and was shocked to see writing back on the page. Was it trying to drive me insane? Keep erasing and rewriting what I had written?

I picked it up. A single word was glistening damply on the yellowing page, not one that I had ever written there.

_Hello_.

This word also faded in moment or two, as I gaped at it. I was suddenly a little scared. My diary was talking to me. I was sure that this could not be a good sign.

The page remained blank, even though I waited a good few minutes. As crazy as it sounded, I decided that it (yes, the diary) must want a reply. But should I?

Despite all Dad had warned me about magical items thinking for themselves, I couldn't help being curious.

_Hello,_ I replied cautiously, rather hoping that nothing more would happen.

I waited while my ink faded, and was barely surprised when new words replaced it again.

_Who are you? And how did you come across my diary?_

I stared at the reply and wrote back quickly, my curiosity now very much alight.

Your _diary?_ I wrote excitedly. _Are you Tom Riddle?_

I suddenly noticed that the writing that appeared back was in the same perfect, precise type of handwriting as was in the front.

_How do you know that name?_

_That's the name inside the diary_.

_Yes, my name is Tom Riddle. This was my diary._

_From fifty years ago? _I asked excitedly.

There was a pause.

_Fifty?_

_Uh… the diary's date is from fifty years ago._

_And how did you come across it after fifty long years?_

_I think my mum might have got it for me._

_Why would your mother get you such a very _old_ diary?_

I cringed with embarrassment in my room. I was already forgetting my initial surprise and fear, and just felt the ordinary shame associated with my family's lack of money. It was bizarrely like talking to ordinary person.

_Well… my family often goes to second-hand shops for books. _And everything else, I added to myself sadly.

He answered in an unexpected way, however. He didn't change the subject, or offer any annoying clichés in an attempt to make me (or perhaps himself) feel better.

_Yes, I know how that feels,_ he wrote in (what I imagined to be) a kindly tone.

I paused a moment.

_You do?_

_Yes. I grew up in a Muggle orphanage, and had to use a very limited school fund to get my books._

_I'm sorry. What happened to your parents?_

_It doesn't matter. _I frowned at the words. Had I upset him? _You never told me your name, though. Who are you?_

_My name is Ginevra Molly Weasley. But I'm called Ginny._

_Hello, Ginny, I am Tom Marvolo Riddle. You may call me Tom._

I smiled at the unnecessary introduction. This felt like the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

During the last week of the summer holidays I did everything I had before. I ate, slept, helped Mum, watched the boys play Quidditch (they _still_ wouldn't let me play) and knocked everything over when around Harry. The only thing different was that I had a friend to confide in.

Tom and I got on better than I could ever have imagined. He _listened_ to me. In a house of six brothers, that was a very rare thing to happen. He gave me advice and sometimes just let me write about me. He joked with me and told me little details about his own life.

He'd gone to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry fifty years ago. He'd been in fifth year when he wrote this diary, and kept a memory his sixteen year-old-self preserved within the pages.

_Why? _I'd written curiously. _Why would you want to keep a part of yourself in the diary?_

_Because, Ginny, Hogwarts was my first real home. I wanted a record of my time there to remain as a testament to that._

I'd felt a sudden surge of pity at this statement. I might not have had much money, but at least I had a home, and a family who loved me.

He'd been interested when I said I was going into my first year there. He had tips for me and pointers about certain classes. He calmed my fears about my new school, describing it as a magical new home that would welcome me.

On the last night at home I stayed up most of the night talking to Tom. He soothed my fears, and I fell asleep with the diary clutched in my arms.

The next morning was a rush, as always, but I didn't mind because this time I was part of it. I had to pack the last of my things and look all around my room for last minute items I'd misplaced. I rushed down the stairs (almost crashing into Harry as a result) and ate my breakfast. We all got into Dad's car, the blue one (I never was one for car models) that Ron and the twins had rescued Harry with.

It was when we were halfway down the road that I suddenly remembered that I'd forgotten something – Tom!

I shrieked for them to stop the car; that I'd forgotten my diary. Mum had been annoyed, but Dad reversed the car back to the Burrow and I rushed back up to my room. The diary was right where I'd left it and I hugged it thankfully before running back to the car.

Having shoved the diary safely into my coat pocket, I looked out the window excitedly as the scenery flashed by. I'd made this journey before, but this time I'd be getting on the train.

I felt terrified, yet elated. What House would I put into? Who would I be friends with? Would I be able to do what the teachers taught? All these questions whirled around and around in my head.

Whenever I felt most panicked, I would reach down and pat the pocket I had put the diary in, and felt almost instantly comforted.

I had Tom, and he would help me through it.

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A/N: I would like to thank everyone who read this, and especially those who reviewed. I love you all!

This was beta'd by Queenie's Broken Heart, who put a lot of time into this and helped greatly improve the standard. She did an amazing job. Any mistakes are mine alone ^_^

Please review! Keeps me chirpy!


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